Homecoming
by nazzymcc
Summary: Coming back to the place where things began begins something new for Ericka and Valen. Sequel to In a Strange Land.
1. Hilltop

Summer was a short season in the mountains, but while it lasted, it was lush. The last time Ericka had been here, it was winter, snow crunching underfoot, weighing down the pine boughs. It felt like so very long ago, and she had been so very young, when she had braved the wooded passes and narrow gorges, seeking what had been stolen from her master. It had been a lifetime ago, but when she closed her eyes, she could still see it as it had been, the snow sifting down from a slate gray sky, worry and exhilaration warring in her heart. Those days had been the beginning of something great, even if she had not known it at the time.

She had spent five years in these hills, five years that had utterly and inexorably altered the course of her life. From the filthy, dank, and crowded streets of Westgate to the clear mountain air, and from an angry, terrified child who fancied herself a woman to a young woman who had learned enough to know there was always more to learn. Under Master Drogan's patient tutelage, she had learned not only history, literature and mathematics, not only mental discipline and physical control in combat, but how to build a fire, how to dress a fresh-caught rabbit, how to barter for supplies. All things every adventurer needed to know. Without him, she could not have had the success she had. She would have never gone to Waterdeep, or the Underdark. She would have never met Valen.

A wooden sign, battered but obviously tended, pointed the way to Hilltop, and beside her, Valen remarked, "We make good time, I see."

She glanced up at him, his voice pulling her from her musing. "A few more hours. At least I think so." She smiled. "It's been a while." He smiled back, and suddenly she couldn't think of a better possible way to be spending her day, in the vibrant green foothills of the Nether Mountains, in the company of the man she loved.

She shot another quick look towards him, the summer sun highlighting the copper in his long hair and the bronze of his twisted horns. He faced many a curious glance, especially out in the country, and many a fearful one, too, but he bore his otherness with better grace than she could manage. "The burden is on me to prove I am not a threat, my love," he had told her one night, after she had nearly gone for her knives when a man spat at him in the street. "It is the way of things here on the Prime. If my kind were not uncommon here, it would be another matter." The way in which he said that made her wish that it was another matter, because as far as she was concerned, anyone who looked at him with disgust deserved his flail in their face. She knew he was right, though, even if she hated it. It was almost enough to make her want to find some mage with the right spells in his book, and take to the outer Planes, where she would be the exotic one. But there was still so much to see here.

And he enjoyed it. She could see it in his winter-blue eyes, focused on the road ahead as he leaned to whisper encouragement to his mount, the huge gray destrier he had named Valhir, after another of his Sigil poets. It amused her that the horse had turned out to be much like his owner, brawny and gentle, but fearsome when pressed. Valen had had little experience with horses before coming to the Prime Material, but he had proven to have a knack for them, which had surprised him, but not her. Wise and noble things were bound to understand each other, after all.

Since leaving Waterdeep, they had spent the better part of a year wandering the Sword Coast, with no particular destination in mind. Ericka had thought for certain that there was nothing the Prime Material could show Valen that could possibly match the fantastic marvels of the planes, but his wonder and fascination with even the most mundane of things made her realize that was her own preconceptions talking. Trees and streams and city streets were ordinary to her because they were what she was accustomed to them, but every day was a discovery for him. And seeing that light in his eyes (eyes she could never get enough of) made her want to share it with him. Which meant it was time to return to Hilltop. For years she had avoided the town and the mountains, unsure she could face it when the one who had made it her home was no longer there. But her grief for Master Drogan was no longer the knife in the heart it had once been, and being with Valen made her realize she wanted to show him the places that had made her who she was. And no place had made her more than this one.

The sun was sinking behind the hills as they approached the town gate, and it was such a fine evening Ericka, not entirely sure why the idea came to her, suggested they make their camp there and go into town in the morning. There was no caravan in the merchants' lot, and the broad flat space with its bricked firepits was a perfect site. Valen agreed readily, but there was something in the arch of his eyebrows as he set up their tent that irritated her. "Yes, handsome?"

He snapped the tent canvas, though the movement of his shoulders looked more like an innocent shrug. "You would not be attempting to put off your return by one more night, would you, my love?"

"No!" His eyebrows remained elevated. She sighed and grabbed an end of the canvas, tying it off to the peg. "Maybe."

"Why? Was there some ill-will left here when you departed? Someone whose path you do not wish to cross?"

"No, I didn't have any enemies here." Maybe a couple of the farmboys she'd had a little fun with and forgotten to look back up the next day... She stifled a snort. Any of the boys she'd fooled around with back in the day were likely all married with kids now, and she had definitely traded up in the romantic companionship department. Valen crossed his arms, the lacing at the neck of his shirt undone just enough to reveal the clean lines of his collarbone, and the way he tied back his long hair only highlighted how nibble-worthy his neck really was.

She'd take Sigil-bred any day.

"No, it's only-" She forced her thoughts back into more chaste territory. "Master Drogan was really well respected here, really well loved... I was one of the last people to see him alive, and I just...left."

"You fear the townsfolk would see disrespect in that?"

When he put it that way, she wasn't so sure. "I guess I do. Hilltop was the first place I could ever really call home, the first place people had any sort of opinion of me, good or bad. And mostly, it was good. I suppose it just hit me that…that might have changed. I really hope it hasn't."

Valen smiled slightly, finished tying off the canvas, and approached her, wrapping his arms around her. "I think my lady need fear no one's poor opinion." He bent his head as he held her closer, his scent filling her senses – the warm scent of earth and steel and heat that could be no one else's. If not for this place, and the things she had learned here, she never would have known that scent. Her mind turned from the thought; what a horrifying prospect. A life without his strong hands and soft voice? Unimaginable.

She couldn't help herself; she nibbled at his neck.

She was rewarded with that soft, purring growl of his, a sound that encouraged her to do everything in her power to cause him to continue it. She brushed her lips and teeth along the edge of his throat, towards the lobe of his pointed ear, planning on whispering just what he meant to her, and how she intended to show it, but he forestalled speech as his hands tightened at her mid back, his head turning to meet her lips.

The sun was setting, staining the clouds in the western sky a vivid orange-pink, casting the long shadows of the mountains over them. The wood-doves were cooing, their voices soft and sweet. The evening breeze carried on it the last warmth of the day and the cool scent of the gathering dew. And Valen Shadowbreath loved her. Life was good, and doubt was, as usual, fleeting and a little silly.

–

The streets of Hilltop were not busy that morning, which did not surprise Ericka in the slightest. It wasn't a market day, so most folk were out tending their fields and herds. Though, being another fine day, the crafters would be about their work out of doors as well – no point in being cooped up in a shop when one could be outside enjoying the sun. And just so, she saw Argus Cooper at work on the porch of his workshop, fitting barrel slates. From farther down the street, she could hear the familiar rhythm of a blacksmith's hammer. Was it Fiona?

The gate guard blanched slightly when he saw Valen, his expression flickering through the checklist everyone seemed to go over when first seeing him: toweringly tall, broad-shouldered, armed and obviously comfortable with that, horns and a tail… It was always the last bit that caused the hardest gulping. But then he saw Ericka, and his expression warmed.

"Ericka Nefzen? Gods, but you're a sight! How long has it been?"

She smiled, relieved. "Nearly seven years, I think."

"You look well!" he enthused. "We've heard such talk of you over the years-" His gaze cut back to Valen for a moment. "I reckon some of it may be true."

"Only the parts you can't repeat in mixed company." She winked at him, and he laughed.

"Shameless as ever!"

"Oh, I've gotten worse."

The guard glanced up at Valen again. "She's a handful, this one," he said, in the spirit of sociability.

"I'd noticed that," Valen replied gravely.

"You should stop in the town hall and see the mayor! I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

"She?" Ericka asked.

"Oh, aye. We finally booted ole Shuttlescomb four year ago – Haniah Dales's Mayor now."

Ericka chuckled. "She practically was anyway. I'll drop in and say hi."

They set off down the main thoroughfare, leading their horses, and Valen's smile had just the faintest hint of 'told you so' to it. She decided to ignore that.

The Hilltop town hall was the same unassuming structure it had always been, and the only figure within the dim main room was a woman seated at a writing desk stationed near the door. She looked up at the sound of their entrance. Haniah's eyes widened in recognition when they lit on Ericka. "Ericka!" she cried, standing. "My gods! What are you doing here?" She cleared her throat. "Well, standing here in the town hall, obviously, but... What brings you back?"

"It...felt like time."

"I am glad to hear it. And this is...?"

"Oh! Shame on me. Haniah, this is Valen Shadowbreath. He-" She hated this part – labels were so tricky, and she was terrible with them. "He's with me," she finished lamely. "Valen, this is Haniah Dales. _Mayor_ Haniah Dales."

Valen bowed over Haniah's hand, bringing every ounce of his Seer-taught courtliness to bear. "It is a pleasure, Your Honor."

"Oh." Haniah blushed faintly. "Goodness." She cleared her throat again. "So I imagine you'll be visiting the school?"

"Yeah." Ericka sighed, surprised at the wistfulness of the sound. "What have you been doing with it?"

Haniah blinked. "What have we been doing with it? Why would we be doing anything?"

This time Ericka blinked. "What do you mean?" The two women looked at one another in mutual confusion, until understanding lit Haniah's eyes.

"You didn't know. Oh, Ericka, the school is open. It has been for three years."

Ericka caught her jaw on the way down, so she only looked like a gaping fish for a split second. "Who's running it?"

"Your old schoolmate Dorna. Dorna Trapspringer."

–

They left their mounts at Thom Faris's livery stable, and made their way up the hill, beyond the town limits, towards the fence and gate that marked off the property that had once belonged to Drogan Droganson. "Dorna," Ericka repeated to herself. "I never would have thought that in eons." Valen cocked a questioning eyebrow, and she gave her head a shake. "She took Master Drogan's death even harder than I did. Just like her, he was a dwarf doing unconventional things, and because he'd succeeded in his path, I think she felt like she could succeed in hers. I know that meant a lot to her."

"If our worth is measured by how we are remembered, then your Master Drogan was great indeed."

"He was." She sighed again. "But that was also what made it so hard. The last time I saw Dorna, after we left Undrentide, she seemed so lost."

"Perhaps being lost, she sought a familiar place," Valen suggested.

"I guess so. Silly of me to assume that what was right for me would be right for everyone." Ericka looked around as they passed through the open gate. The cow sheds, the vegetable garden, the herb plots, all as she remembered. A big hound trotted up, muzzle lifted to catch their scent and judge their intentions. Ericka offered him her hand and he nosed at it warily, but apparently could find nothing questionable in it. "You look like Sheba," she said, cautiously scratching at his ears. He allowed it. "Are you one of her pups?" He nudged her hand in answer – he would prefer more scratching, if it was all the same to her.

He accompanied them up the path around the barn, and Ericka paused as she caught sight of the main house. A new wing had been attached to the east side, the shutters had been repainted, and the roof retiled, but it was still the same house. The windows on either side of the front door had been slightly different sizes, giving it an almost cross-eyed appearance, and that hadn't changed. Ivy and morning glory still crawled up the trellis, turning their leaves to the sun. She felt a warm, calloused hand cover hers. "Is it good to see?" Valen asked quietly.

"It is," she nodded, turning her hand to interlace their fingers. "Let's see if anyone's home."

The doorknocker, too, was unchanged; still a heavy brass thing in the shape of Mystra's star that clanged prettily when used. From within, Ericka could hear footsteps, and what sounded like muttering in Dwarvish. The door opened with a jerk, the small woman at the latch demanding, "What do ye-" Then she looked up, and Dorna Trapspringer's jaw dropped. "By the Short Father," she breathed.

"Hi, Dorna." Ericka tried for a game smile. She judged its success to be about fifty percent at best.

Dorna's hand dropped from the latch, eyes still fixed upwards. "Ericka Nefzen. After all this time. I never thought I'd see your face again."

"I'm sorry for that, Dorna. I hope you didn't think I was avoiding you, it was just…"

"Aye." Dorna nodded curtly. "It was." She straightened her back. "But that seam's mined. No point in standing about catchin' flies – come in, have a drink. Let's act like civilized folk."

Though none of the furniture was familiar, the sitting room itself was. Ericka had to blink back tears at the sight of the old half-moon fireplace, its red brick black streaked from years of winter nights. "Have a seat, have a seat," Dorna ordered. They obeyed, and she gave Valen a critical once-over. "I'd ask for an introduction, but I've a fair idea who ye are, Valen Shadowbreath." He raised an eyebrow. "I've read that mad little reptile's new book. His prose is still too flowery, but he writes a good action sequence." She dispensed wine for her guests and ale for herself. "So how much of this one's true?"

"Mostly the unbelievable parts," Ericka said.

"If I didn't know ye, I'd wonder what that meant." Dorna tilted her head, eyeing Ericka steadily. "Before ye even ask," she said, "I'm not angry. I never was. We just went different ways, you and I."

Ericka took a deep breath, and nodded, relieved to see that water passed under the bridge. "How did you end up back here, Dorna?"

"It's a long story," Dorna said. "And I don't have a bard, so it could take a while." She refilled their glasses, and settled back in her chair.

She had taken to the road herself, in the days after Undrentide. But there was a hollowness inside her, and when a few seasons of adventuring had failed to fill it, she began to fear that nothing would. She tried to think about when she had been happiest, and her thoughts always turned to Hilltop. The thought of the school, sitting empty and silent, ached like a sore tooth, and she realized there was only one thing to do.

"So I found myself in Sembia, in Daerlun," she said, taking a long drink. "And who should I run into the lane – quite literally – but Mischa Waymeet herself. Ayala had recruited her into the Harpers, ya see, after Master Drogan died. She and I got to talking, and she said she'd been feeling the same, that it was such a shame the school was closed. And after a few days of discussing it, we decided to put our coin together and come back to Hilltop."

"You're running the school with _Mischa_?"

Dorna chuckled. "I thought you'd say that. But the truth of it is that she's not the kid you remember. She's not the kid _I_ remember. The Harpers did her a world of good. Besides, would you rather I went into business with Xanos?" The thought nearly made Ericka choke on her wine. Dorna grinned. "Exactly. Anyway, we offered to pay for the place, but Haniah wouldn't hear of it. Ayala sent us a couple of likely students, we had a couple more the next year. We're up to five now."

"So where is everyone?"

"Off in the hills for a tenday with Mischa. She calls it a team building exercise. I call it getting everyone out of my hair for a few days so I can actually get some work done around here. Gnolls keep cleaner sties than a pack of teenagers. " Ericka snickered, and Dorna gave her a hard look. "What?"

"You just sounded a bit like Master Drogan, that's all."

"Oh." Dorna ran a hand over her auburn braids like a bird smoothing its feathers. "Alright then. Anyway, you two should stay for some dinner. Won't be anything grand, but it'll fill ya."

Ericka didn't need grand. Eating a summer's meal, fresh from the garden, was more than enough. Over their food, Valen regaled Dorna with the (shortened and somewhat sanitized) story of his escape from the Blood War to the service of the Seer, a tale she absorbed with lively interest. After they ate, he excused himself to fetch their horses from town, though Ericka had a feeling it was more to provide her and Dorna the opportunity to speak privately. That was certainly how Dorna interpreted it, for no sooner had he walked out the front door than she smirked and said, "Taken up with a tielfing, I see. The tail just for show?"

"A lady never tells."

"Good thing there's no ladies here."

"What can I say? My taste in men is apparently more exotic than the Prime Material can satisfy."

"That'd explain why you went through those farmboys and prentice lads so fast. Gods know we tried hard enough to paint this town red, but being Hilltop-"

"-the best we could manage was a light pink," Ericka finished, completing the mantra. They laughed, and Dorna surveyed her friend with warm eyes.

"You make quite the couple."

"That's all him. He couldn't be inconspicuous if his life depended on it."

"Doesn't keep me from noticin' you look happy."

"I am. And so do you. Teaching's been good to you."

"Well, you know what they say about those that can't do." Dorna smiled. "But aye. I never woulda thought so, but it has. And we've had a good go of it so far. My only regret is that we've no arcanist to make use of the old lab. We thought about converting it into the chapel, but we just couldn't bring ourselves to. So it's still empty." She sighed, then stood, setting aside her drink. "I've got some wash to bring in. Wanta help?"

"Do I get demerits if I don't?"

"It's either this or muck out the stables."

"You really have turned into every lazy student's worst nightmare."

"Learned from the best."

It was like old times, bringing in the laundry before the evening dew set in. They had done this chore countless times in their school days, and the setting sun seemed to dissolve the seven years since last they had. "Ach, what long legs put that up there?" Dorna grumbled under her breath. She cast a beseeching look to Ericka. "Will you get that for me?" She gestured to a clothespin basket that had been set on top on line post, out of her reach. Ericka reached for it, making a face.

"I've gotten used to being the short one."

Dorna laughed. "How tall is that drink of planar water, anyway?"

"Six seven in his stocking feet."

"That's unnatural, that is."

"At least you're saying that about his height, as opposed to…other things."

"What, the horns? So he's part demon. He can't help his blood, now can he?"

"No, he can't," Ericka said staunchly. "But there are plenty of people who seem to think he ought to be able to." She cocked her head. "Did you hear that?"

Dorna furrowed her brow, listening. "No. But you've always had better ears than me."

"Sounded like it came from the gate. But it can't be Valen – I don't hear any horses. Give me a minute." She jogged around the corner of the barn, towards the gate, and the sight that met her eyes as she did brought her to a skidding stop.

Valen stopped a few steps from her, concern etching a deep line in his brow, concern for the small figure he cradled in his arms. Ericka thought it a child, a young boy, until she drew closer. No child, but a halfling lad, young, but past adolescence. Deep bruises marked what should have been a handsome face, and blood dripped down his arm, pooling in the dust at Valen's feet. "There was a great cry at the town gate when I was at the stable," he said tersely. "He had stumbled up out of the hills, covered in blood. They say he is one of the students."

Ericka inhaled in horror. "We have to get him to Dorna." Valen gave a tight nod, but before they could take a step, the lad stirred and coughed.

"Mis…mistress Dorna," he panted, his voice a dry, cracked whisper. "Trouble…everyone's in trouble."


	2. The Lost

Valen was accustomed to the flurry of activity that surrounded seeing to the wounded. Dorna spared only a split second of shock at the sight of her student in his arms before springing into action. The laundry forgotten, she charged ahead of him, barking orders. "Take him inside! Up the stairs – his room is second on the left!" And he obeyed instantly, hearing in the dwarven priestess's voice the same thing he had heard many times in the Seer's. Up the stairs, in the second room on the left, he laid the halfling lad on his bed, and got out of the way. He knew this was the part of the process he had no place in.

"Ach, Yacob," Dorna murmured, pulling at her patient's shirt to reveal the source of the blood that soaked it, "what happened, boy?" He moaned and started to speak; she hushed him with a quick but gentle hand to the mouth. "Not yet. You let me get you fixed up first. Yer mum'd kill me if I didn't."

Ericka joined Valen in the doorway. "How is he, Dorna?" Dorna shook her head, her eyes fixed on Yacob.

"Took a beating, poor thing. And that's a knife cut to the shoulder." She closed her eyes, lips moving, and a golden light surrounded her hands. The knife wound staunched, the flesh reknitting, and the swelling and bruises faded from purple and black to a sickly yellow. "Breathe deep for me, lad," she instructed. He did, but it was a weak and rattling effort, and Dorna pursed her mouth. "The ribs, too. Vergadain's beard!"

Ericka glanced uneasily up at Valen, and reached for his hand, fingers twining with his. Dorna paused again, light fading from her hands as she brushed Yacob's hair from his forehead. She shot a sharp glance over her shoulder at Valen. "How'd you find him?" He repeated what he had told Ericka, and her eyes drifted into frantic thought. "Then what about the others? And what happened to Mischa?"

"Took her," Yacob wheezed. Dorna took his hands in hers, her eyes alight with worry.

"Who took her, lad?"

"Gnolls...and men...came to camp." Tears welled in his eyes. "We tried, Mistress! We tried, but there were so many of them!"

"Hush, _dwin_," Dorna whispered, brushing the eyes from his cheeks. "I know you did. I don't doubt it for a moment."

"Gnolls AND men?" Ericka repeated. "Gnolls don't take orders from hairless unless there's something in it for them."

"Hairless?" Valen looked confused.

"Anyone who's not a gnoll."

"Ah."

"And if they took Mischa alive, chances are they knew she was the only real threat of the group. There were probably targeting her specifically."

Dorna's face darkened. "That's not even a bit comforting."

"I know it's not."

"So what do we do?"

Ericka met her old friend's eyes. Seeing Dorna now, hovering over her student's bed with a look she was certain she'd seen on Master Drogan's face, she knew that Hilltop had been the making of them all, not just herself. Drogan had died for them, and Dorna would die for this boy now. She had found her calling, and Ericka's heart swelled at the realization. Master Drogan would have been so proud.

"You don't do anything, Dorna."

Rage flashed across Dorna's face like lightning. "Excuse me?"

"While Mischa's gone, you're the only authority at this school. If Yacob was able to find his way back, others may as well. You have to stay here for them. Valen and I will go into the hills, and we will find out what happened." She gripped Dorna's shoulder. "We _will_, Dorna. Please let me do this for you."

Their eyes held for a moment. Dorna wanted to disagree; Ericka could see every feint and maneuver of the war going on behind her eyes, but finally, she nodded, once and very firmly. "Aright. But you had best find my flock, Ericka Nefzen, or I will never forgive you."

Ericka smiled faintly. "I'd never forgive myself, Mistress Trapspringer."

* * *

><p>The school guest room was just as Ericka remembered it - in fact, the furniture was exactly the same. She hoped that Dorna and Mischa had at least gotten a new mattress for the bed. She shot Valen an apologetic look as he set down their bags. "I hope you don't mind that I volunteered you for this, handsome."<p>

He lifted an eyebrow, giving her that look she'd come to recognize as 'You're making me say obvious things again'. "Why should I refuse to come to the aid of someone who is dear to you? Your concerns are mine."

She made a face at him, and sat down to unlace her boots. When he put it like that... "Still. I didn't ask. I just assumed."

He sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. "It has been a year since we left Waterdeep, my love. At this stage, there are assumptions that are safe to make."

"A year," she mused, chuckling to herself. "My gods...it has been, hasn't it?"

"The best year of my life," he said softly. "And I have been alive for quite some time."

She stood, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, savoring his returned embrace. "Let's not just keep it to one, huh?"

"All the years of my life are yours," he said, lifting his head to look at her. He tightened his grip around her waist, and her pulse quickened. Those astounding eyes, fixed on hers with such absolute clarity and certainty – he was the best thing in her life, and she wanted nothing more than to deserve the devotion he so freely gave.

"That sounds suspiciously like a promise," she teased.

"It is," he breathed, brushing his lips against her ear.

She shivered, turning her head roughly to meet his lips with hers. She felt him smile against her mouth as he leaned back, pulling her on top of him, his hands sliding up her back beneath her shirt. His tail brushed the back of her leg, lighting a fire within her, and without a second's thought she was scrambling to do away with the hateful confines of clothing between her and his skin.

Then, as she reared back to wrench off her undershirt, she remembered where they were. Dorna was just a few rooms away, worrying herself sick over the wounded boy entrusted to her care, and here she was, selfishly seeking her own pleasure. She subsided, shirt lowering, and Valen shot her a quizzical, frustrated look. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

She settled against his chest, crestfallen. "I just – Poor Dorna."

"I see." He ran a hand up her back to hold her against him, cupping the nape of her neck under her hair. "I have long admired your capacity for devotion," he said softly. "Even before I loved you, I was amazed at how freely you gave of yourself – to the Seer and Nathyrra, even though you had only known them a short time, and to Deekin, though I could not understand that love in the slightest." She laughed weakly, and he gave her a squeeze. "I suppose I fell in love with you because I wanted to be a part of that. I wanted to deserve it."

Ericka lifted her head, blinking. Had he somehow read her mind? He looked back at her, with those endless winter sky eyes, and everything was all right. It wasn't just pleasure she sought in his arms. It was this connection, the way they understood each other, and it was far more precious than mere sex could ever be.

Though the sex was an amazing bonus.

"We'll have to be quiet," she whispered.

"I can if you can."

"Deal."

In the end, she had to bite his shoulder to keep up her end of the bargain, but he didn't complain.

* * *

><p>They left the school in the gray light of dawn, before the sun had crested the mountains. Dorna watched them load the horses, pale with exhaustion. "There's four of them," she said tersely, following every action with quick darts of her eyes. "Torin and Arnelie are human. He's tallish, fair, green eyes. A good bowman. He'll probably take the lead, or at least try to. Arnelie's a neophyte of Mystra – she's dark, wears her hair in braids. Kurt's a gnome...he's a bit on the small side, even for that, but..." She flashed a wan smile. "Ye'd like him, Ericka. His talents are right up your street." She steadied herself with a deep breath. "Magda's the fourth. She's a halfling, too – Yacob's cousin, actually. She's a gingery little thing, sharp as good steel. When Torin gets overwhelmed, she'll take charge." She sucked in another breath, but it fluttered, and she clenched her jaw. Ericka bent to face her eye to eye.<p>

"We will find them, Dorna. Them, and Mischa. We will figure this out and put it right."

Dorna nodded tightly. "And you'll let me have a piece of the bastards that did this?" Ericka shot her a hard smile.

"I'll save the biggest one for you."

Dorna smiled back. "Good thing, because I know some stories on you this one might be interested to hear." She jerked her chin towards Valen, who had the decency not to look intrigued. "They were headed west, into the foothills. Past the old elf tomb."

"Where we found the shadow hart?"

"That'd be a good place to start looking."

Ericka nodded, and swung up onto her horse. "We'll be back soon."

"Vergadain keep you," Dorna said, and covered her holy symbol with her hand as Ericka and Valen rode away. "Vergadain keep us all."


End file.
